


Starting from Somewhere

by Nomader



Series: Partners [5]
Category: Laramie (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:09:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25885615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nomader/pseuds/Nomader
Summary: For Jess, his association with Sheriff Hatch and the folk of Rock Springs not only stirs up past secrets and old pain, but raises a new dilemma. He has a decision to make: to chose a starting point and a destination. His heart pulls in one direction but betrayal of trust drags him the other way.
Relationships: Jess Harper/Jonesy, Jess Harper/Slim Sherman
Series: Partners [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1255892
Comments: 5
Kudos: 14





	1. Chapter 1

This story is part of an m/m series (Partners), as indicated in the Archive Warnings and is intended for those who like this imaginative interpretation. The stories are strictly about fictional characters and not intended to reflect on the original actors.

#  **1**

_“Your present circumstances don’t determine where you can go;_

_they merely determine where you start.”_

Nido Qubein

The metal star rattled as it settled on the desktop next to Hatch’s. It fell from fingers which released it with equal degrees of reluctance and relief. It lay there, between his hands, like an accusation and a challenge. He was remembering the first time he’d put it on. How he’d sat at the desk, polished the badge with his bandana and smiled.

\- _An’ Hatch was sleepin’, peaceful, out back there in the cells … -_

All was peaceful now, but it was not the same peace. The funeral was over. The bank was restored to solvency. The town was tranquil. The folk had accepted his authority gladly and gone quietly about their lawful business. The two drunks he’d hauled in tonight were sleeping off their alcohol-induced aggression in the cells, albeit sleep aided a little by a couple of straight left punches.

\- _A fast gun don’t punch with his gun hand first, not if he wants t’ stay fast. –_

It was Chris’s voice, still, that he heard in his head, the calm, laconic voice dropping seemingly casual hints which had proved invaluable to a hot-headed youngster who never knew he was being taught. A sudden real pain twisted his guts, so sharp that his eyes blurred with tears.

\- _Chris taught y’ t’ lose a friend an’ reload y’ gun and go on! –_

A lesson Jess Harper had been practising ever since. They had met in the pain of almost intolerable grief and ridden together for a while. Friends like Chris had been rarer than a peaceful Comanche, for too often those who professed friendship turned out as savage as one. Now the lesson in loss served only to render more vivid all that he had admired in Sheriff Tully Hatch. For he had respected Hatch almost as much as he did Chris, not least because both the older men had been able to see Jess with the clarity of long experience.

“You don’t care who you pick your fight with, do you?” That had been Hatch’s first judgement of Jess and it was a perceptive one. Jess didn’t care who he had to fight in order to get justice for Vic Stoddard and he didn’t care who knew it, either. But Hatch’s cool handling of a couple of hotheads – Jess included – had impressed the wild hawk, even as he was about to strike and kill.

Now killing had blinded his vision and torn his heart once more.

_\- Chris was a friend y’ lost one way. Hatch another. –_

The pain wracked him again. He didn’t know where Chris was or even if he was still alive. But Hatch was sleeping now, not in his cell but in the seeming quiet under the sod of the graveyard.

_\- Does he sleep quiet? –_

Jess hoped profoundly that he did. In the end, Hatch had realised where he belonged, even if finding out had cost him his life. But just one mistake had brought the recognition too late. Hatch could have lost his life at any time, for the job of a sheriff was often no less perilous than that of a fast gun, but he had navigated its risks with shrewd practical skill and insight. Now it was important Hatch’s strength and wisdom were not lost in his passing. The building up of the community might be more important than the lives of individuals, but it was sustained and nourished by the way those individual lives were lived. The town needed this memory of Hatch as a standard to meet, for protection of others was at the heart of being the law, whether it was the rights and safety of individuals or of the whole community. In his own way Jess had, at the heart of his skill with a gun, the same desire to protect the defenceless, those to whom he had given his word or for whom he carried an obligation, and his friends. Chris had taught him that and taught him well.

When he’d ridden into Rock Springs, the paramount thought in Jess’s mind had been to support his friend Vic Stoddard. Despite the wrench of leaving the relay station – _of leavin’ Slim, if y’ honest_ – the loyalties which drove him could not be denied, even at the denial of his own desires and needs. Vic was … had been … a brother in arms. Not one of the _Salvajes_ \- the inner circle who fought for a freedom which had nothing to do with the Confederacy or the Union - but a brother nonetheless because he was one of the troop. The troop fought together and stuck together and never deserted their own. Jess was living proof of that, for Vic had dragged him off the battlefield and got him as far as their surgeon before he bled his life away. Vic had never wanted to fight, he was a gentle soul, a hard-working farmer whose only ambition was to make his living from his own soil. His hopes had, he thought, been fulfilled when he acquired the land near Rock Springs, but it only led him into more trouble. Vic would always have chosen a peaceable way, unlike the _Salvajes,_ the wild ones for whom fighting was an instinct and a delight. So, pushed into a corner, he had written to Jess – his comrade who took trouble by the throat and shook it. Written too late. A friend whose innocent life Jess had been unable to save and whose death he had not personally avenged.

Doubtless Hatch’s intervention had saved Jess from taking the law into his own hands, but it still troubled him that he had failed Vic in his need. It was, after all, loyalty to Vic which had lured him away from the relay station, away from Slim, in the first place. The letter had come as a total surprise. Jess had no idea anyone knew he was working at the relay station, but that did not matter. What mattered was that one of his comrades needed him. His mind was made up the moment he opened the letter and read Vic’s obviously desperate and hastily scrawled appeal for help in the face of some overwhelming threat. The letter gave him precious few details, not even where in Rock Springs to find Vic, but Jess was compelled to go to the rescue. He knew this truth with such certainty that immediately he was single-mindedly riding away from the ranch without even a word to Slim.

\- _And y’ didn’t wanna say goodbye because it’s final. An’ Slim might just say goodbye too! –_

He had been wrong about that. Slim had not shaken hands and washed his hands of Jess. He had held out an open hand and held open the door for when Jess was able to return. Though neither of them realised it, this was to be a turning point in their relationship and a key to it – the fundamental acceptance of Jess’s need to be free to go and to return.

But it had still been hard. Not just because Jess wanted to stay, but because riding to Vic’s rescue brought to the surface of his mind memories and feelings which he had kept locked away in the mental cell where their needs could not torture him. Vic was part of the troop, part of the familiar body of men with whom he had spent four years of mutual danger, support and solace. And remembering such comradeship stirred up all too clear recollections the _Salvajes_ and physical memories of close intimacy and unexpected trust. And that brought longing. Then, Jess had indulged the normal lusty appetite of any adolescent male. Now, he had deliberately chosen celibacy, if he could not have what or rather who he wanted. Such vivid memories did not make his decisions and actions any easier. And deep below them was an agony against which he slammed the door of the mind-cell once more.

All of which underlay his mission to Rock Springs and his encounter with the first lawman whose principles and actions he could admire. Jess Harper’s experience of the law had, up to the point at which Hatch prevented him getting into a shoot-out, been that of prejudice, injustice and more than one instance of unfair imprisonment. The way in which Hatch coolly defused tension and left troublemakers no option but to obey the law and keep the peace won Jess’s admiration, even though it left him wrongfooted and vulnerable. It was quickly clear Hatch was also a man who owed nothing to anyone, or their opinions, and was prepared to stand by himself – something which Jess could relate to instantly, since that was how he himself lived. Moreover Hatch understood a young man’s urge for freedom, to spread those wide wings and challenge the sky and defy attempts to curb or control him. He could so easily have been describing the hawk who had alighted in his territory - for a while. It was such qualities in the sheriff which tempted the wild one to stay and learn – for a while. It was not the first time Jess had tried small town life, but the first where he had volunteered to wear that badge and learn about the law from the right side.

\- _Y’ came because you thought y’ were needed. Seemed sense t’ stay at the time. ‘Cause Hatch was strugglin’ … oh, he looked cool, gave nothin’ away … but he was strugglin’. Y’ sensed it, even if y’ didn’t know why._ -

The struggle had proved to be between integrity and the powerful need to be wanted, loved. Though he did not readily admit it even to himself, Jess knew all about the latter. And its potential for destruction. One person could make another pay a terrible price for stepping over the line of their own integrity. It was a good job for Evie that she had fled the town, her mind and priorities already made up. Now Jess had to decide where his were. Where he drew the line he would not cross. Would he, like Hatch, toss aside what was really at his heart?

Jess could still feel the imprint of Hatch’s badge on the palm of his hand where his own had clenched it.

The night wore on, but he sat at the desk, unmoving and cold as the depths of his thoughts, gazing at the two pieces of cold metal which could hold a man’s integrity and his life. When he’d first put the badge on it had not been just to repay Hatch for making his job harder for him – not just because he admired the sheriff - not just to learn how the law could be rightly enforced. He had remained in Rock Springs because it was a small town like Laramie. Something in him wanted to fit in, to have some respectable skills and a worthwhile reputation for ability other than gunplay which he could take back to the relay station. He’d written to Slim that something had come up, but he had not confessed what or why he was lingering halfway to Salt Lake City instead of getting back to where he started from.

He had seemed outwardly to be becoming part of this little community, but inwardly he had already made his choice, at least as far as the office of sheriff was concerned. When Hatch had told him: “I’m naming you in my place if you want it,” Jess had not wanted to refuse directly and responded: “I like the town an’ all. I don’t know what to say.” But he knew he could not stay to give the town the permanent stability it needed. It was not in his nature and not in his heart. He would work alongside Hatch willingly while he was needed, but putting down long-term roots …

- _If y’ gonna do it anywhere, it ain’t here. -_

Rock Springs had given him unexpected space to put into perspective his recent experiences, his growing yet frustrating relationship with Slim, his needs and expectations, not to mention the secrets which he carried with him. While he was still trying to work out these things, he could not honestly provide a moral compass for the town and he would not do less than what the people of it deserved. So he had consulted with the Minister and the Bank Manager, and, most of all, Mr Troy to set about a search for someone worthy to fill Hatch’s boots and wear his badge. Hatch had rightly told him: “You’re taking that badge awful serious.”

It was true - he’d had a good teacher. But it took him till now to realise that Hatch had not treated him in the same way that Chris had – both of them seeing a boy needing to be trained, but only one with the respect to let the younger man stand alongside, instead of expecting him to follow.

And that brought his thoughts right back where they started, with Chris, his second real teacher.

\- _Hell, yeah, y’ learned a lot from a lotta men, but only two of ‘em were truly teachers. Hatch was shapin’ up to be a third, even if he didn’t quite make it … an’ all of them seasoned campaigners …_ _Y’ gotta thing for older men? –_

The question brought back the security of those quiet moments when Chris’s strong arms had held him and the dry, amused voice had observed: “You do know I’m old enough to be your father?” And his own sleepy murmured reply: “But y’ ain’t!”

There would be no sleep for Jess tonight. He had been living in the office and sleeping in the cells, feeling Hatch’s spirit close to him at times. Ma Poole had tried to stir his grief-stricken appetite with regular good food, and everyone, from the tradesmen to the saloon girls, had dropped by to thank him and wish him well. He’d need those well-wishes, for tomorrow he would hand over the precious badges to someone deemed worthy of them by the elders of the town, then mount up and ride out.

He was starting from Rock Springs. It remained to be seen where he would go.


	2. Chapter 2

#  **2**

‘ _There is but one problem – the problem of human relations._

_We forget that there is no hope or joy except in human relations_.’

Antoine de Saint-Exupery.

Jess sat on the edge of the cliff, looking down. Beneath him the crossroads outside Rock Springs was stamped like an arrowhead on the landscape, bidding him choose. No-one could see him hesitate. No-one knew the conflict in his heart and mind. No-one could influence or aid him. He was alone in this moment of decision, as he had been so often before.

\- _The best teacher in the world can’t make up your mind for you. Only you can do that._ –

Chris again.

It was true, too. Any manner of people could try to reason or persuade or coerce you into one course of action or another. Not that coercion had ever had much effect on Jess. - _Brute force, yeah, a few times … -_ But those times remained in the locked cell and he was generally almost impervious to intimidation.

So now he had to take one road out of the three below him. He could travel on beyond Rock Springs and come eventually to the parched and inhospitable lands of Utah. From what he’d heard, he did not think he’d fit in at all in Salt Lake City. He could travel north into Montana … to Calgary maybe … even as far as Canada if he wanted to. He could go east to Laramie … and the relay station. The choice was his. There was nothing to stop him.

Yet he was stopped. Poised, frozen, as if time had stopped too. As if he was being given one last chance to decide where he belonged. A chance to draw the line for himself on his own terms, a line not so much about moral decisions but about personal relationships.

Looking down from the cliff brought back vividly the vigil he had kept on Baxter’s Ridge, waiting for Carlin to appear, waiting for Slim, waiting to work with him in partnership to bring justice and order. Not so very different from working with Hatch, except that Slim and Jess were equals. And he did not see in Slim any sign of the struggle which he had perceived from the beginning in the sheriff. There was strength and resilience in Slim Sherman, although he was not much older than Jess himself. Honesty and integrity were deeply rooted in Slim and he would not compromise them for any personal gain. That had been clear when he had ridden off in pursuit of Carlin, even though Jess had refused to go with him. And since their fateful reunion below Baxter’s Ridge, Slim had offered an open and honest friendship …

_\- An’ too many of y’ friends are lyin’ dead! –_

Too often the face of a friend, of a comrade, of his kin, had turned to something Jess did not want to see. Trust, loyalty, affection even, turned to hatred and anger driven by fear. Too often there had been virtually no choice, no time to think between life and death. Since he had come to the relay station, he had seen five of those he had been closely associated with lie dead, four of them by his own hand and one because he had not been there in time. Jess had tried, always, to act with integrity and to honour the obligations and responsibilities which relationships put upon him. But even with someone he admired as much as Hatch, a man from whose example Jess hoped to learn, there had been no guarantee. In the end, it had come down simply to who was fastest with a gun. Jess’s gut clenched in pain once more as he remembered the moment he had seen Hatch fling away everything he himself stood for and decide to kill. To kill Jess, his friend, his fellow worker.

The thought of seeing that expression, that decision, on Slim Sherman’s face, made Jess shudder.

If it came to the draw, he would win. Slim was no match for his speed.

And he would have to look down at the body of the man with whom he wanted far more than friendship.

He knew Slim offered an open and honest friendship. He was ready for Jess to return when he could. He had said: “Remember where you started from.”

But now Jess was starting from Rock Springs and all that had happened there. Now he had to choose: either to ride on and not look back, or to trust the offer of relationship and belonging and believe that riding to Laramie would not end in betrayal and death.

Could he risk it? Dare he risk it? 

Jess sat still for a long time. The wind dropped and the natural sounds of the earth faded into the noonday hush. On the roads below nothing moved. Over them the sky stretched vast and empty and blue as his own eyes. Still he sat. Not thinking. Waiting. Waiting for his heart and mind and spirit to find equilibrium. Waiting for time to restart.

Presently a soft nudge jolted Jess’s left shoulder.

“Hmm-m, Zig?” he murmured, slowly coming back to reality. “You wantin’ t’ see Alamo again? Ready for stables ‘n corrals ‘n fodder instead o’ grass?” He rubbed the velvet muzzle and his faithful mount breathed a warm gusty sigh over him.

“Ready t’ swap a Dutch name for an English one?” Jess found himself moved as he recalled Andy’s instant rapport with the horse. The memory of his first morning at the relay station, the welcome and the acceptance, the simplicity of good food and hot coffee, the comradeship and satisfaction of working together, flooded him with sudden warmth.

“OK, then!”


	3. Chapter 3

#  **3**

‘ _A single conversation across the table with a wise man_

 _is better than ten years mere study of books_.’

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

The warmth wrapped him all along the long road back. No single thought or memory had brought about his decision. All of them combined in a sense of rightness. He rode quietly, allowing Zig to set the pace, but both of them feeling they were heading in the right direction, not just to a destination, but to a place where the future could start.

The pain and grief did not leave Jess nor was the anguish of killing an admired friend any easier to bear as the miles passed. But it was counterbalanced by the reminder of something steadfast and true, something in which he could put his trust. He had travelled a good many miles before he realised that this ‘something’ started from a poke in the ribs and a sardonic voice telling him he could not drink away his guilt and his responsibility.

\- _Jonesy!_ –

A grateful smile lifted Jess’s lips for the first time since he had brought Hatch’s body back to Rock Springs.

\- _Jonesy said y’ can trust Slim. That he’s a good man and he ain’t ever acted any ways other than honest and true._ –

He thought a bit more and remembered the old cook’s words about himself: - _You’re a good man, Jess – never doubt it. Y’ain’t perfect but y’ll do because y’ heart is right. Hold on to that! –_

Maybe Jonesy might just like looking after Jess the way he did Slim and Andy? It seemed he was already becoming like an old friend.

\- _Y’ can talk t’ Jonesy! –_

Jess relaxed into Zig’s gentle lope, which was carrying him towards the first hope that he had experienced since his encounter with Chris of reconciling his conflicting emotions. Then he had been young, angry, experienced in things beyond his years and stubborn in the extreme. He had seen no other path than the bitter one he was bound on. Now perhaps he could take stock of what had brought him to his present point and feelings. Now perhaps he could learn something from wise words, learn how to carry responsibility without it carving a hole in his heart every time. Maybe. But he had said to Slim that there comes a time when a man’s got to think with more than his head. He was still very stubborn. It was as long a way to travel mentally as it was physically.

But at long last his faithful mount halted with his nose to the opening of a gate. The sign said: _Sherman Ranch. Stage Stop. Laramie 12 miles_. A slight frown creased Jess’s forehead. There had not been a sign when he had ridden out. Apart from the name on the barn, the only sign he’d ever seen was the _No Trespassing_ notice up by the lake.

Jess grinned to himself, glad memory could amuse as well as pain him. - _Slim was real mad that Zig was tied to it! He couldn’t wait to see y’ dust. Who’d o’ thought he’d end up tellin’ y’ to come back!_ -

With this in mind, he opened the gate, rode through and closed it carefully behind him. There was no way they wanted precious stock straying out onto the road and who knew where after that. Jess was the only stray the ranch could afford and he was determined to stay put and pull his weight from now on. He was eager to get back and get started where he was wanted and needed. He urged his bay into a canter and, as he did so, saw a rider on a chestnut horse crest the ridge above him and head on down at an equally brisk pace.

\- _Slim!_ –

Suddenly Jess did not know what to say.

Fortunately for him as soon as Slim halted he was demanding, with a delighted grin of welcome, if Jess had decided he was needed more on the ranch than in Rock Springs. It was as if they were still in the same conversation and Jess had never left. All the events in between suddenly shifted into focus like a compass needle swinging to true north. Realisation hit Jess like a haymaker and he blurted out: “It’s not all on who needs me. It’s what I need too.”

Slim’s eyes widened as he registered the passion in Jess’s voice. He’d told Jess he should know he was needed by everyone at the relay station, but now he realised that Jess, for all his independence and self-sufficiency, might need them too. He was surprised at the younger man’s vehemence, but glad to see it was accompanied by a grin, albeit one which was difficult to interpret. He wondered briefly what had happened in Rock Springs, but in the meanwhile the most important thing was to get on home.

It was much later that the same question reoccurred to Slim. All the chores had been completed for the night. The horses had been settled and Zig, or ‘Traveller’ as Andy insisted, made much of by the boy, not least for bringing Jess safely back. They had washed off the dust of the day and were seated at the supper table, about to do justice to the roast chicken and apple pie Jonesy had provided, almost as if he knew Jess would arrive that evening.

It was obvious Jess was very glad to be back, but, despite his toughness, it was also obvious that he was very tired. Andy, normally bursting with questions about the wider world, showed his sensitivity by restraining his curiosity. He just handed Jess a mug of coffee and made sure the pot was well within reach. He was thanked with a grateful grin and promptly topped up the mug the moment Jess had finished. Jess himself was also uncharacteristically quiet and, when Slim asked again how things had gone in Rock Springs, did not seem inclined to answer. In fact he turned a shade pale and his expression was the perfect poker face he could assume at will.

Jonesy looked up sharply from carving the chicken and said, “Let the boy get a meal inside him – an’ a couple o’ pints o’ coffee. Y’know Jess ain’t human till he’s had enough coffee.”

“In the morning,” Slim pointed out with a grin.

“In the mornin’s plenty o’ time for questions,” Jonesy insisted firmly. “Whatever happened ain’t no account now. Now’s the time for peace an’ quiet an’ a good night’s sleep.”

Jess looked up from his stacked plate and acknowledged Jonesy’s intervention with a grateful nod. Then he let his gaze take in the now familiar living room. His hat, jacket and gunbelt were hanging behind the door. His rifle was back in the rack. In the corner stood a couple of half-finished fishing poles he’d been working on. On the mantelpiece, amongst the assorted family clutter, was a little carving he’d made of Andy’s pet racoon and a spare packet of cigarette papers. Behind him the lid of Jonesy’s beloved piano stood open, ready for some quiet music before bed. The place seemed to fit him like the well-worn boots on his feet under the table. And the people fit him too – sensing the wisdom of Joney’s words and willing to let him be, just be himself.

\- _Peace n’ quiet ‘n a good night’s sleep. I’ll vote for that! –_

***********

Everybody must have tiptoed out of the bedroom the next morning, because Jess woke up to find it was fully light and he was alone. There was a split second of panic in which he expected to be hauled out of bed and lose his job for being so late. Then he recalled the last thing Slim had said to him before they turned in: “You’ll take the day off tomorrow.” When Jess protested, he was told summarily: “You’ve just ridden 200 miles, Jess. I’m the boss and you’ll rest up because I say so!”

\- _Darn it, if a commandin’ Slim don’t_ _get y’ pantin’ for something he ain’t gonna give y’!_ -

All the same, the order from Slim, unlike anyone else, had Jess arching his back and stretching every muscle with a wishful shiver. Then he relaxed again with a sigh, breathing in a reassuring sense of belonging. The clean smell of the fresh linen sheets Jonesy had put on the bunk for him. A familiar faint whiff of the stuff Slim slicked his hair with. The aroma of coffee.

The last smell made him realise that what he wanted, with just as much fervour a lie in or a roll between the sheets with Slim, was a good breakfast. In Rock Springs, sick grief had made him fast from almost everything except a good many cigarettes, but here he could smell coffee and fresh bread and all manner of other good things. He dressed in record time, ran a hand through his hair, fished his knife from concealment under his pillow and set out to find something to eat.

Jonesy was still seated at the table, which was out of the ordinary as he was usually busy with the clearing and washing up and preparations for feeding any arrivals on the morning stage. When Jess appeared in the doorway, the old cook gave an affirmative nod and remarked: “Thought the coffee’d bring y’. A man ain’t fit f’ the day till he’s got his fill o’ victuals.”

With that, he stomped off to the kitchen and presently returned with a heaped plate and several covered dishes which he had obviously been keeping hot for Jess.

“Thanks!” Jess was never going to turn down food – it had been too scarce too often. “Gotta fuel up f’ the work the boss’s gonna order today.” He looked ready to wolf down the food and dash out of the door to catch up with whatever was in hand.

“The boss’s orders say y’ t’ eat an’ rest, so y’ can stay sittin’ right at the table,” Jonesy told him firmly. “He don’t need y’ today. Taken Andy t’ help him pick out the best new calves.”

“He did?” Jess looked pleased that Andy was being given some responsibility. Then he turned his attention to the food and did his best to express his appreciation of Jonesy’s cooking by demolishing the offerings swiftly and silently. 

Jonesy sat down again and regarded the ravening Texan thoughtfully. Presently he said, “Darn’d if I’d’ve given y’ that letter if I’d known y’d take off into the blue again. Must o’ bin a real good friend to make y’ leave in such a hurry.”

“Yeah.” Jess pushed away his empty plate. His bright blue gaze darkened and became empty too.

“Trouble?” Jonesy suggested, although he had no doubt whatsoever that trouble was Jess’s shadow and his second nature.

“Yeah.”

“You sort it out?”

Jess shook his head. “He was dead when I got there. Arrived just in time for the funeral.”

“You find out who did it?” It seemed obvious that if the man was in trouble enough to send for Jess he probably didn’t die from natural causes.

“Yeah.”

“And?”

“The sheriff took him down. Wouldn’t let me do it.”

“Sounds like a sensible man,” Jonesy commented, mentally adding to himself that this sheriff must be a strong character if he could stop Jess Harper from taking justice into his own hands.

“Yeah.”

Jonesy leaned back in his chair, folded his arms and assumed his most sardonic expression. “Gonna take y’ a long time t’ get away from this table if all y’ gonna say is ‘yeah’!”

Jess’s eyes flashed with a little of his normal liveliness and his lips twisted in an equally sardonic grin as he replied, “Oh yeah?”

“And I ain’t got all day t’ sit here listenin’ t’ whatever’s got you all twisted up inside this time,” he was told briskly, “so git on and tell me what’s tormentin’ y’ that y’ didn’t want t’ share with Slim last night.”

Jess grabbed his mug and took a long pull of coffee. He stared hard at it, then set it back down with careful deliberation, as if his safety or his sanity depended on it. “Sheriff got killed. They offered me the job.” He fell silent again.

“But y’ didn’t take it,” Jonesy prompted.

“I ain’t the man.”

Jonesy gave a snort of disapproval. “I reckon y’ve proved y’ sense of justice more’n once, young man. Can’t see y’ wearing a badge full time, but that ain’t t’ say y’ wouldn’t make a good lawman if occasion calls.”

“Did.”

“Y’ did?”

“Yeah. I wore the badge. Sheriff Hatch made me his deputy in Rock Springs.”

“Wise man,” Jonesy commented again. “Guess he could see y’ worth more’n appearances.”

“Am I, Jonesy?” Jess’s normal deep growl cracked with suppressed emotion.

“Told y’ that before!” the old man reminded him sharply. “Now this Sheriff Hatch must o’ seen the same.”

“The last thing he saw was the bullet from my gun and me holdin’ him as he died,” Jess whispered.

Jonesy was quiet, sensing Jess was too choked to be able to go on talking. He waited patiently until some calm returned to the Texan’s anguished face. After a few minutes he said gently, “He was y’ friend.”

“Thought so. Right till he pulled his gun on me.”

Jess halted, evidently fully expecting the obvious response that he’d acted in self-defence, but Jonesy simply nodded in understanding that this was not the issue and waited for him to go on. Jess’s haunted eyes were enough to tell him that the pain and horror could not be assuaged by any excuse.

“I saw his face change, Jonesy. Like it was happenin’ in a nightmare, where faces are just masks an’ he was tearing his real face apart to show me something he’d kept hidden.”

The old man’s eyes narrowed as he considered this. He asked, “What was the real Hatch like?”

“Wise. Just. Good at readin’ people and situations. He upheld the law – could talk to people so they understood what was right. Gave them room for their pride but not for wrongdoin’.”

“So y’ decided t’ help him in his job?”

“I’d made it more difficult for him – causing trouble on account o’ Vic. And he was on his own, no-one standin’ by him to see justice done.”

“An’ I’m guessin’ y’ looked up t’ him, admired him?”

“Yeah. He was …” Jess struggled to find the right words and settled on: “honest – brave - stern – but kindly with it, like he cared for people and why they were the way they were. A fine sheriff. I thought I could learn somethin’ useful – respectable – more like Slim’s way o’ behavin’.” Jess paused with a gulp, then admitted, “I ain’t always been on the right side o’ the law.”

“Reckon y’ ain’t never acted except accordin’ t’ how you saw justice,” Jonesy told him. “So this Hatch – he was wise an’ just an’ made folks like to be law-abidin’ – a good man?”

“Yeah.” The simple response was deeply heartfelt.

“So what happened that he was tearing the good apart and drawin’ on his own friend?” Jonesy knew the question would hurt Jess, stirring up as it did memories of the other friends who had done the same and earned the same fate. He remembered Jess’s desperate fear in the early hours of dawn: “It keeps happening!” But he also knew that Jess needed someone to make him talk about it, in the same way he knew a festering wound needed lancing.

The question did hurt, but it also opened the floodgates. Suddenly Jess was pouring out everything, all the details of the whole story, from his first encounter with the sheriff to the shock of Hatch’s decision to cross the line he himself had drawn – the moment when ‘ _a man sees how one thing’s possible and suddenly anything’s possible_.’ Of the power of love to drive out all other considerations. Of the one mistake which cost a man his life – but not his reputation. Of how Jess had seen to that.

At the end, Jess fell silent again. Jonesy did not speak at once either. They sat together quietly sharing the sadness which loss of goodness always brings. But there was more between them than simply grief at the death of a good man. Jonesy could feel something he had sensed before, more powerful now after the events at Rock Springs. Something he would not instinctively have associated with Jess Harper.

Fear. 

Pure, simple fear.

Heartfelt, gut-wrenching fear.

“It keeps happenin’!” Jess whispered again. “What if one day it’s Slim, Jonesy? What if I see his face change and his hand go f’ his gun? Y’ said he’s never been anything but honest and true. So was Hatch!”

Jonesy looked at him with compassion. The young man’s face was almost expressionless, all the power of feeling simply darkening his eyes and stilling his lips. Jonesy’d seen this kind of emotion before. For a second he could not recall it, but suddenly he realised that the same expression had been on Mary Sherman’s face, every time Matt had gone out to meet danger alone. A fleeting emotion, but vivid nonetheless. The fear of losing to death someone you loved. A lightning flash of grieving before the event ever happened. In this perception Jonesy realised that Jess’s feelings for Slim ran deeper than simple friendship and attraction. He could see where the pain and fear came from, on top of the burden of being forced to fire on those he had cared about. But Slim, Jonesy trusted fervently, was to be trusted, even when others weren’t. He just had to get Jess to see the difference – and trust it too.

“Y’ sure o’ that, Jess?” he asked thoughtfully. “Y’ went t’ help y’ friend, didn’t y’?”

“Yeah. Vic. We came through the war t’gether.” So much more than the war, but now was not the time to share that particular past. “He was a simple farmer at heart. Wanted t’ protect living things an’ make them grow. Not so good at defendin’ himself.”

“So how come the law in Rock Springs didn’t defend him? Y’ called Hatch a fine sheriff.”

“Hatch wasn’t there. It was down t’ his deputy, Grat. An’ he was no good – danced t’ Curly Troy’s tune.”

Jonesy frowned. “How come Hatch had him for deputy then? Y’ said it was a town of good folk. You tellin’ me in the whole town there wasn’t anyone to wear that deputy’s badge ‘ceptin’ a man who ain’t got no honour for it?”

Jess shook his head slowly. “I guess not.” Rather desperately he added: “Maybe Hatch wanted t’ give Grat a chance, hoped he’d grow into the badge. Like he did with me.”

“From what y’ tellin’ me, there wasn’t no great sign o’ improvement!” Jonesy commented drily. “So when Hatch rode out o’ town, he was either such a bad judge o’ character that he didn’t know what his deputy was up to and who he was sidin’ with? Or he chose to ignore it?”

Jess shook his head again.

Then, “Go on tellin’. Y’ went after Troy. Hatch disarmed y’ both. What happened next?”

“He talked t’ me about his job. About standin’ alone. Then –” Jess stopped short as something struck him as it had not at the time. “Then he gave the guns t’ the bar keep and went upstairs t’ talk to Evie.”

“He didn’t bother about what Curly Troy was doin’? If he was as good a judge of men as y’ say, he must o’ known Curly’d find another gun and come after y’. An’ known the deputy’d still be on his side. An’ that you wouldn’t find it easy t’ get armed in a town y’ didn’t know where the sheriff had taken y’ gun. Why didn’t he stop him?”

“He did!” Jess protested. “He came after me an’ took on the shootout himself.”

“Yeah! After he’d finished runnin’ after a no-account woman who was Curly’s girl anyway. How’d he think that would help calm an angry young man?” It was a good question – and so was Jonesy’s next one: “Or maybe gettin’ rid of Curly just served his best interests?”

“No!” Jess protested sharply. “He was real cut up about Curly. He said Curly forced him to do it.”

“Really?” Jonesy sounded profoundly sceptical. “Jess, if Hatch didn’t wanna shoot Curly, all he had t’ do was lock the pair of y’ up for the night! Instead, he left two angry young men an’ a no-good deputy on the loose in the town.”

Jess shook his head once more .

Jonesy said firmly, ““All this ain’t the behaviour of a man who’s gonna prove honest and true. The clues were there all the time, Jess, right from the beginnin’.”

There was another long pause as his words sank in.

“Yeah, I knew he was strugglin’,” Jess admitted. “I just didn’t know why or how. But that’s why I wanted t’ help him.”

“OK. Y’ told me how Hatch was when y’ met him. Now think back to the first time y’ ran across Slim. What were y’ thinkin’ then? How’d y’ describe his character?”

The ghost of a grin twitched Jess’s lips as he answered at once. “Self-righteous!”

“Fair enough. But the word y’ chose is _righteous._ A man who does what is right. By his family, by his property, by his friends and neighbours. By his beliefs ‘n standards. Above all, by the law.”

“Even if it could cost him his life,” Jess admitted, recollecting Slim’s actions then. Thinking some more, he went on, “He said somethin’ like that when we were on the Lolo Trail: _it’s just a case of a man doing what he thinks is right_.”

“Like he came after y’ then, not only to put the law right, but t’ do right by his friend,” Jonesy pointed out gently. “A man who does what is right doesn’t draw on his friends. I told y’ before, y’ can trust Slim.”

A deep sigh escaped Jess. “Ye – ah.”

“That’s more the kind o’ ‘yeah’ I was hopin’ t’ hear,” Jonesy told him thankfully. “Like I told y’: hold on t’ what y’ know from experience. But that’s not the bottom of it. It wasn’t just Hatch crossin’ the line – that was his choice. You chose what y’ did about it.”

At once Slim’s angry tones seemed to ring in Jess’s ears again, like they had when Roany turned up at the relay station. It was pretty clear that lying didn’t reach Slim’s standards of righteousness. Aloud he murmured, “Slim don’t like lyin’.”

“An’ y’ told a lie for another man.”

“He was dead. He couldn’t tell lie nor truth.”

“No more he could,” Jonesy agreed fairly. “But you chose the lie. Why?”

“I got t’ mindin’ about all those folk. About the bank manager bein’ so cut up at losin’ all their money.” Jess’s expression was warm and sympathetic. “I know how it feels. Ain’t never had much money m’self.”

“No,” Jonesy agreed wryly, remembering Jess’s uninhibited generosity. “I guess it doesn’t stick t’ y’. So …?”

Jess went on doggedly. “I didn’t want them knowin’ who was gonna take it all. Didn’t want to risk the town cursin’ Hatch and forgetting all he had done for them. He deserved better’n that.”

“Maybe they deserved better’n that lie?” Jonesy challenged him. It hurt him to do it, but Jess needed to hear the reaction of someone who had not been involved. “They might’ve accepted him an’ his one mistake. They knew him better than you did.”

This evidently hit home. Jess bowed his head. He was thinking of reactions to Hatch: - _how Ma Poole said God made Hatch good on the inside … how Mr Troy listened to_ _him, even though Hatch shot his son … how the whole town crowded the graveyard to say goodbye, not a single soul missing … -_

Jonesy regarded his reaction with stern kindness. “Real respect accepts you for who y’ truly are - including y’ faults an’ y’ mistakes.” Then he smiled and added gruffly. “Same as us friends do.”

“Y’ sure?” Jess asked hopefully. He knew this truth really. It was just such a long time since he had shared true comradeship, trustworthy friendship, real relationship, with all its joys and perils, that he had almost forgotten what it felt like.

“Sure I’m sure. Sure as y’ sittin’ at this table.”

\- _A wise old man indeed. And perhaps his third true teacher, where Hatch had, in the end, failed_. -

Jess straightened up and looked Jonesy square in the eyes. He might not ever have learnt much from books, but this time he sure as hell could learn from wisdom offered across the table. He said firmly, “I ain’t gonna hide it from Slim, but I don’t know where to start.”

“Same place as always,” Jonesy told him. “Start from where y’ are. An’ right now, we are in the Sherman Ranch and Relay Station Stage Stop. We got customers t’ get ready for. So since y’ kept me talkin’ half the morning, y’ can help me clear up my kitchen. Start with the washing up!”

* * *

  * This story follows on from the episode _Star Trail_ and it is acknowledged that details of dialogue and action are drawn from it.




End file.
